going nowhere

The other day, I had a dream. Usually, my anxiety dreams always involve packing for trips, which considering my nomadic nature, is pretty on point. (When I was teacher, I always dreamed I was late for school.)

I needed to get to the airport, but of course I was late. I also happened to be in this gigantic shopping mall, and of course couldn’t remember where I parked my car. So I was dragging this large green duffel bag all over the place, moving all slow like you do in your dreams, and trying to calm down my mother who kept popping in and out reminding me of the time. To top things off, I was also running in the 400 meter relay in the Olympics! Miraculously, I had somehow won the Olympic trials. But…all I could think of was “Oh no! It’s a relay, so I’m going to be letting other people down when I’m not there!” Then…

I woke up with a start…and sigh. I realized I didn’t have to go ANYWHERE. Whew. It was such a relief. I didn’t have to pack my bags again, or pick up my clothes, or fold up my bed and stack it neatly in the corner of the room. I could go into the kitchen and find the exact thing that I wanted to eat for breakfast. I didn’t have to feel awkward being in someone else’s space, using someone else’s shampoo, or breaking somebody else's glass. These are MY things, and I’m here for a while.

As much as I pride myself on being a flexible and relaxed traveler, there is something so necessary and comforting about having a physical space that is yours. You have the control to let other people in, and you have the power over where you put your things. You know where everything is, because you put it there, and no one else moved it when they were feeling cluttered. It may be messy, but it’s mine.

I’m just glad that I’m staying in one place for a while. And even though I know this isn’t permanent, and will be over by the fall, I am totally savoring every minute, happy that I'm going nowhere.